


The Holly and the Ivy

by Dwimordene



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Multi-Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwimordene/pseuds/Dwimordene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yavanna's gifts are always timely. Six drabbles held together loosely by motif. </p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holly and the Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Winter  
**

_"Some say that Yavanna dies in winter, and each spring revives when Vána and Nienna come to weep for her._

_"They have not seen the White Lady walking, clad but in her skin, her hair all dusty ivy, her lips berry red. She goes mourning the kingdom of earth, wailing windy day and night, her bare feet leaving scarlet stains upon the icy ground._

_"In the withered fields and stark forests, they bloom in her wake: holly and ivy, to stand and to hold against the days of death – gifts, to save us all against the white despair of winter."_

**Snow**

The clouds had spilled westward from the mountains, 'til they clotted all the sky. The fierce winds knifed through furs and wool, 'til heat leached from their blood. In that driving white wasteland, what could two Rangers hope for?

They would die here, the elder thought, too far from Bree or Fornost to reach either…

Then it appeared: a vague, red-decked shadow – _Holly!_ The deer's wallow welcomed them. Knives cut into earth; dry leaves and branches fed their little fire. Snow and berries made tea – bitter, but the cold-fog lifted.  

_And the White Lady shook her locks, and passed on._

**Seeds**

" _The land is broad and vast. Beneath the cold, Yavanna lies, dusty and patient as the seeds she's sown._

_"To all Men, she has given a seed to tend, and rooted it deep within their hearts. Some come to Spring, and shoot up like grass, swift and fresh; others need many Springs to show their true form, like the oak. Some are sweet as daisies, others fierce as roses._

_"And some seeds die. Some grow vicious weeds._

_"But to Men in winter, Kementári gives holly and ivy, twined together: holly for boldness, and ivy for loyalty, to succor the world_."

**Darkness**

She was a Vale-girl – learned all the rose rites, the old hymns and rhymes – and in her springtime, there'd been many who'd courted her. She'd laughed, tried them all – why not? Marriage would cover…

But t'was the caravaner lad who caught her: though City-bound, his eyes and high spirit beckoned, and so they'd pledged, and Imloth Melui's Rose bloomed in Minas Tirith.

A good bed they'd made – joyful, decked with Yavanna's ivy – but never got children.

Now, in the world's eventide, Ioreth, ivy-locked, faces the darkness, and finally understands Kementári's blessing: _Thou shalt mother a city, or nothing at all._

**Lady Snowberry**

" _Bless winter, when the land lies fallow_

_Bless flint and tinder, honor tallow_

_Bless the grain asleep in sheds_

_Bless the ploughmen in their beds_

_"Bless the maslin-thatchèd hall_

_Bless the hearth a-sheltering all_

_Bless the roots that keep all fed_

_Bless the goodwives in their beds_

_"Bless this land by which we live_

_Bless the bounty that it gives_

_Bless Yavanna's growing power_

_Bless my love, lies in my bower_

_"Bless the seeds that we shall sow_

_Bless the children that shall grow_

_Bless the hearth and bless the snow_

_A-clothing Lady Misteltoe_

_Bless our ivy-lockèd queen –_

_Kementári Evergreen!_ "

**Hearthfire**

In the Smials, come Yuletide, they gather by the great hearth: men to one side, women facing, and sing.

In praise of holly, hardy, bold, the men belt their songs, taunting: _Show us your ivy!_

Then the women join hands and lace about them, singing for ivy that tops holly, 'til the company's so thick, a kiss only makes sense.

There's a trick to it, to end by the one you want. After a hard year's siege, Diamond's determined. She twirls free to Peregrin Took.

"I can sing more," she teases.

"No doubt!" he laughs. "Snowberry truce?" She grins.

"Please!"

* * *

**Notes** : The song contest was something gleaned from a [Wikipedia reference](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Holly_and_the_Ivy), which lacks citation unfortunately, so who knows where the idea came from? But it's a fun idea, so I borrowed it. It also handily let me shove "misteltoe" in there.


End file.
